


A Grave Mistake

by Mistic_all_fandoms



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Afterlife, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst?, Bad Ending, Choose Your Own Ending, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, DreamSMP - Freeform, Fluff, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have no self control, I refuse to let tommyinnit die, Limbo, Might be OOC, No Romance, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Soulmates, Possible OC intervention, Sad, Sorry Not Sorry, Spoilers!, Temporary Amnesia, Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Tubbo snaps, magic?, uhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29341686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistic_all_fandoms/pseuds/Mistic_all_fandoms
Summary: Another DSMP AU where Tubbo’s Nuke hits TommyInnit, but with a few twists.-He open his eyes, expecting the light of the glow stone to greet him, Tubbo’s dog barking outside his door, someone yelling at someone else to give back a stolen item.  A part of him reminisced about the old days, where he’d stand up and put on the revolutionary uniform Niki made and join his brother in war. He’d look up at the sky and see a clear sky, no smoke, no executions—just L’manburg’s flag billowing in the wind. He expected to at least wake up in his little hobbit hole and get ready to do what Sam Nook told him to.Instead there was... nothing.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 30
Kudos: 209





	1. Out With a Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this gets attention I’ll post the second chapter 👀

The SMP was quiet as he strolled through the snow, a bag slung over his back with some snacks and water and logs. It was a nice day, a clear day, a nice breeze rattling the tops of the trees. A few stumps were left from his excessive collecting, a trail through the snow and bushes. Birds chirped in the trees, the occasional fox darted away, ears drawn back and fangs bared at the two as they trudged through the snow.

“Come on, this way. Lots and lots of trees.” She muttered quietly, annoyance dripping off every word, a hand on the hilt of her blade and the other constantly checking the communicator.

“You know, Niki...” he began, kicking at a little poof of snow as he walked. “You’re actin’ like Wilbur. Do you remember Wilbur? Good ol’ Wilbur Soot? Your old friend?”

Niki paused mid-step, taking a deep breath and hanging her head. She waited for him to finish collecting some more logs before continuing. “Just... this way.”

The teen nodded stiffly and took another step towards her. A part of him was screaming at himself, like a million voices telling him to stop walking. To go back. To see Sam Nook and see whatever Tubbo was up to. To stop following the pink-haired woman that reminded him of his brother—of the man that set ablaze his own nation. So he was hesitant to follow, filling the quiet space with more small talk. He wiped the sweat off his brow and glanced around.

She vanished. And it was very, very quiet. The breeze had stopped, the foxes long gone. He bit the inside of his cheek and kicked at a stick, a creeping feeling of dread falling over him. A shadow passed overhead, catching his attention. He brought his hand to his brow and peered through the sun to see something shooting towards him— His heart dropped. Instinct took over, and he ran back the way he came, as fast as he could—wind nipping at his face and branches lashing around his arms.

He was too late.

“Look at that!”

Tubbo grinned, clicking on the gas mask and running towards the giant crater in the ground. Pieces of rubble continued to fall down to the bedrock far, far below. Jack Manifold walked up to his side and looked down, a grin splitting his face under the mask. He adjusted his plastic glasses and glanced around for his partner in crime.

“Good work, Tubbo.”

His searching gaze grew frantic. Did she make it out in time? He pulled up the communicator and typed something in.

_Where are you?_

“This is great! It works!” The kid laughed and hopped down to a platform of rocks. Jack’s fear’s dwindled when he saw the pink haired woman stand up from a pile of rubble. Even from a distance, she had paled, eyes wide, sweat dripping down her forehead.

Tubbo saw her too, a flash of concern striking his face. “Niki? What is she doing here?”

She yelled something, her voice barely managing to reach their ears. The two shared a look and shot off around the crater to see what happened.

It was dark. Unbearably dark. Everything swayed. He was on his stomach, ribs digging into the dirt with each struggling breath. He coughed, feeling something coat his face and arm. His ears were ringing, but as the head-splitting sound ceased, he could hear shouting instead. He knew those voices...

“I—you said—“

“Tubbo—I am so, so sorry, ple—“

“Shut up! Just SHUT _THE FUCK UP_!”

An eerie silence came after the brunette screamed, followed by a few heartbroken sobs. Tommy blinked open his eyes to see cracks in the rocks.

“T-Tubbo...?”

The coughing continued as he tried to get his arm under him to stand. He pushed himself up, shots of pain shooting across his shoulder and back. The teen let out a roar of pain and collapsed.

“Tommy! Tommy holy—holy shit!”

His friend dove towards the rocks and pulled them back, trying to free him. The other two hesitated before helping, murmuring their apologies for... something. He tried to get up again, then collapsed in a heap of his tears and blood.

Why was there so much blood?

“Tommy, don’t move.” Jack Manifold peered through, jaw set, the look in his eyes concealed by his glasses. Tubbo’s hand flew to his mouth, the gas mask having long since been discarded. He looked away and curled in on himself, trying to calm his heavy breathing and tears. Niki bit her lip and shook her head sadly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

To Tommy’s surprise, he shrugged her off and faced her with his teeth bared. “Go find someone to help.”

“Tub—“

“Go. Find. Someone.”

Tommy blinked. His voice was shaking, holding that authoritative tone that a president once had. The teen clenched his jaw and felt the world spin around him, forcing him to remain still despite his constant struggling.

Jack Manifold and Niki gave each other a panic-stricken look. “Both of us...?”

Tubbo nodded, wiping his face and sniffling. The two shared another look before scampering off, leaving the two British teenagers alone.

  
“You-you know I-I’m cl-claust-claustrophobic-c...” Tommy coughed more and tried to move, looking up at Tubbo breathlessly. The walls and ash were suffocating him. The light from outside was blinding him.

“Stay still, big man.” He tossed aside more rocks and reached into the crowded cavern, barely able to touch him.

“T-tub....”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Tubbo bared his teeth with effort, continuing to toss away the rubble.

“I-I’m claust-Cl-clau...”

“Hey, hey, Tommy. It’s okay.” He faked a smile, tears rolling down his cheeks. He managed to reach in and grab Tommy’s immobile arm. “Save your breath, big man. Just... just breathe, okay?”

Tommy eyed his friend, nodding stiffly and resting his head on his friend’s hand.

Tubbo dug his fingers into his dirt and blood covered hair and held back a sob. “S-stay with me, okay? D-Don’t go dyin’ on me...”

“Ok.” He whispered, despite the darkness of the cavern literally crushing him. His name was repeated about ten, maybe fifteen times before he lost consciousness.

It was a bad day to be passing by the Embassy.

Several people were found by the two scrambling individuals—who constantly repeated how much they fucked up. Ranboo eyed them from afar as Captain Puffy tried to calm them down, her hands placed firmly on their shoulders.

“From the beginning.”

“There’s no time!” Jack yanked himself from her grip. “Come, bring more people—“

“What’s going on?” Awsamdude peered out, strolling away from the work in progress hotel. His sword gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, setting the poor Brit on edge.

“I—its....it’s Tommy.”

Ranboo’s head swiveled to stare at the group. Sam looked about ready to kill the man, Puffy taking a shaky step back. The hybrid swallowed his anxiety and strolled forward, one hand clutching onto his book and the other grabbing the edge of his coat.

“Well? What are we waiting for.” He gestured for the two to lead. They nodded stiffly and sprang off in the direction of the bomb sight.

Tubbo finally managed to pry his way into the tiny cavern, holding Tommy’s hand and trying to push the rock off of him. He had used the hazmat suit to clean and wrap up his scratches and the nasty cut on his head. His friend was still breathing—barely—but he was still breathing. That’s all that mattered at the moment. The soft, shaky, rise and falls of his chest. Tubbo tried to push the boulder off. Tried to do something, anything, to save him.

Then there were voices outside. He didn’t dare remove his hand from his, but he did clear away the tears from his face. Not that it made a difference. Ranboo was the first face he saw, and he felt some tension release from his shoulders. Of all the people to help, Ranboo was the one he trusted the most. The lanky hybrid peered in, eyes dilating to the darkness. Sam was there too, and Puffy, recoiling at the sight like Tubbo did.

“O-oh. Wow...” Ranboo let out a frazzled breath, scooping away more rubble. “Is he still breathing?”

“Y-yeah... he passed out after they left.”

Puffy and Sam turned on Niki and Jack, who backed up with their hands raised. “What the hell did you do?”

“I-we’re sorry! We....”

“He’s trapped...” Tubbo muttered while the two tried and failed to explain themselves. He was chewing his lip and rubbing his thumb across Tommy’s hand.

Ranboo watched thoughtfully, then crawled his way in and sat at the other side of the teen. “I’m going to lift the rock. You drag him out, okay? And don’t stop until he’s completely out. Tubbo?”

Tubbo nodded, wiping away some more tears and exhaling sharply.

“Okay. Ready when you are.” “You attempted to murder a CHILD.”

“He caused every single war on the server! We were doing you a service!” Niki spat back.

“No, you let a kid kill his best friend. You—“ Sam shook his head in disbelief, brows knitted.

“You’re both as bad as Dream.” They opened their mouths to object, but then Tubbo yelled something. They ran towards the hole and stared down into it, seeing Tommy cradled to his chest instead of buried under a rock. Ranboo smiled lightly, sitting on his knees and watching the two. He reached over and pressed his finger’s to Tommy’s neck.

“He’s... alive. But not for long.” His ears flicked back and he stared up at the others. “Can... someone go get potions? Who’s house is closest?”

“Tubbo’s.” Jack blurted, earning a glare from Sam.

“Great! Puffy, make sure they don’t try to kill Tubbo too, I’m off to get potions.” She watched him leave without another word, then turned back to the kids inside. “Let’s get him out of there. See what we can fix.”

Tubbo sniffled and nodded, hooking an arm under his legs and half carrying-half crawling out with Ranboo. They rested him on the snow and Tubbo covered him with his SnowChester coat. Puffy knelt down beside them and felt around his chest and shoulders, paling more and more.

“He’s got a busted shoulder. And some broken ribs...” she sighed, “We need to move him.” “I got it.”

Ranboo gave Tubbo a smile and wrapped his long arms around him, bringing him up and standing in one swift motion. Puffy fell into step behind Ranboo and Tubbo, making sure to keep the other two a ways away.  
They were muttering to each other until Jack Manifold managed to speak up. “Is there any—“

“You’ve done enough.” Tubbo snarled, earning a surprised look from Ranboo. “I’d be surprised if Sam doesn’t throw you in w-with Dream.”  
“I’m sorry, Tubbo—“

“Sorry doesn’t _fucking_ cut it.” He hissed coldly. “If he dies, I’ll make sure you both pay for it.”

“He’ll be okay.” Ranboo piped in, showing a nice smile and eyeing the boy in his arms. His face had lost its color, chest struggling to rise and fall.


	2. Leaving The Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all earned this :)  
> Also this chapters much longer, you’re welcome :)

He blinked open his eyes, expecting light from glowstone to greet him, or Tubbo’s dog barking outside his door, or someone yelling at someone else to give back a stolen item.A part of him reminisced about the old times, where he’d stand up and put on the revolutionary uniform Niki made and join his brother in war. He’d look up at the sky and see a clear sky, no smoke, no executions—just L’manburg’s flag billowing in the wind. He expected to at least wake up in his little hobbit hole and get ready to do what Sam Nook told him to. 

Instead there was... nothing. Just a white void. No dogs barking, no footsteps, no trees moving. No humming redstone or the clicking of armor.  _ Nothing _ .

“Oh, look, he’s awake.”

Tommy’s blood turned to ice. He shot up into a sitting position and glanced around, crystalline eyes landing on two—three?—figures. One was laying down, a fancy bottle half-full of something orange in his hand. The other was sitting with his back facing him—and the last one was leaning against the second, snoring obnoxiously loud.

“Welcome, Tommy.” 

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath to calm the surge of emotions that entered him. He then stared ahead at them.

“Wilbur...”

“Don’t forget me, kid.” The half-ram scoffed, eyeing him out of the corner of his eyes. He then took a swig of his drink and gasped at the wretched taste. 

“J’Schlatt... and MD.” The corners of his lips twitched in a smile. He pushed himself off the ground and strolled over, looking across the empty land.

“What is this place?”

“The void. Or... I guess the afterlife is a better word for it.”

Tommy stopped in his tracks and stared down at his brother. Wilbur hadn’t changed a  _ bit _ . Hair tousled over his eyes, dark red beanie containing the rest of it, a black turtleneck and his iconic trench coat wrapped around him elegantly, fashioning a sewed on patch of the old L’manburg flag.

“The—“ he cleared his throat and blinked a few times. “The  afterlife ?”

“Welcome!” The hybrid cackled from his spot and downed another shot.

His heart sank.

“I’m—I’m dead?”

“I’m afraid so, Tommy.” Wilbur’s gaze drifted to the void before focusing on the other. “Sit down.”

“No, no. I gotta.... I can’t be  dead .”

“What happened to you?” Schlatt scoffed, eyeing him, “You look like shit.”

“Is there a way to go back?”

“Not usually.” Wilbur shrugged.

Tommy glared at him, scoffing. “What—what does that mean?”

“On a normal day, I can’t feel a connection to the living world... but sometimes—like after you fought Dream—I could. It’s complicated and no one knows how it works.”  


Tommy finally sat down and curled his knees to his chest, resting his chin in his arms.

“Why are you always so stressed out, man?” Wilbur snickered. “Relax! You’re free!”

“Tell us the story of how the great Tommyinnit got killed.” Schlatt grinned evilly, sitting up to get a better look at the kid.

Tommy stared at the empty space in front of him instead.

How  did he die?

He didn’t remember anything. Maybe something bright, something hot on his skin—then again, not a month went by in the Dream SMP where he didn’t witness something getting blown up. Did he accidentally get hit by a creeper? No, even he wouldn’t be  that careless.

Either way, he was dead. And he... didn’t know how to feel about that. Certainly wasn’t overjoyed to be reunited with two of the SMP’s villains. Or sad to be ripped away from home. The longer he thought about it, the more he forgot. He had a job to do, right? Maybe that’s how he died... he failed to do a job for someone and got punished for it.

_Right_?

Meanwhile, the two waited patiently for an answer, looking more bored than anything. 

“Well? How’d you die?”

Ripped away from his thoughts, he eyed his brother inquisitively, either internally scolding the man or actually considering his answer.

“I don’t know.” 

“Ha! Liar.” The hybrid tried to poke his leg jokingly, his finger phasing through instead. His eyes widened at the realization he couldn’t touch him, and he quickly sat up and discarded the bottle.

“What?” Wilbur watched his friend with narrowed eyes. Schlatt reached out and tried to put a hand on his knee. Instead, it floated on through. 

Alarmed (and rightfully so), Tommy backed away, lips curled back. “What the fuck?”

“You’re not dead.” Wilbur assumed, eyes wide and a grin splitting his face. “That’s new.”

“No kidding.” Schlatt scoffed. “Well, your loss, kid.”

“What??”

“That means you  can go back to the living world. You’re still connected somehow.” Wilbur gestured to Tommy, careful as to not disturb the Mexican on his shoulder. 

“That’s... a lot to take in.” Tommy admitted with a huff, resuming his usual position.

“We don’t know shit that happens there.”

“We get glances, or if someone’s about to loose their final life we get to have access. But I’ve only done it once.”

“But I’m not dead, right?”

“Congrats.” Schlatt rolled his eyes. “Now get out before I start throwin’ shit.”

“Yeah, you should go.” Wilbur gave him a reassuring smile, not bothering to reach out and touch him. “We’ll be waiting when it’s your time.”

Tommy studied Wilbur, itching to leap forward and hug him. Or something—not that it would work anyway. He clenched his jaw and nodded instead.

“How?”

“I don’t fucking know, reach out, pull yourself back to reality.” He shrugged.

The teen nodded and bit the inside of his cheek, resting his chin in his arms and closing his eyes. They went back to... whatever they were doing before, which was absolutely nothing. He focused on the emptiness of his mind instead.

He saw it—a flicker in his mind’s eye. A flash of light. He clung onto it and squeezed his eyes tight, feeling traces of pain filter into his arm and shoulder and back. Holy shit—everything felt like it was on fire.

Maybe it was a mistake to go back. Before he could second guess his decision, he was staring up at a wooden ceiling, the light of a few candles around the room flickering around him. He could hear wind slamming against the wood of the cabin. 

It hurt to breathe. No—who was he kidding? Everything hurt. He didn’t bother moving, his mind foggy and eyelids heavy. Everything hurt except...

His legs. He couldn’t feel them. He closed his eyes again to force himself to calm down. They had to be numb for the pain, right? If they weren’t, he’d be in more pain and he knew his saviors—whoever they were—did not want that.

The void felt like nothing more than a weird, vague dream.

Someone stepped down the stairs and hummed to themselves, rustling around in a chest. Tommy tilted his head enough to see a tall man in a suit grab a bottle and a rag, tail flicking below him. He knew him, right? He looked familiar, but he was too out of it to actually pinpoint the name. 

The hybrid turned around and stared down at Tommy, half-black half-white face startling Tommy enough to make him flinch. Pain seared up his back.

“Tommy! You’re awake. I—wow.” The enderman smiled and strolled to his side, dousing the rag in some of the potion. “I need to make sure you’re okay before I get Tubbo, okay?”

_Tubbo_.

Now that was someone he could recognize by name. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, only to cough instead. Ranboo forced him to stay laying down with a hand, different colored eyes flashing with concern.

“Maybe, don’t talk? That’s going to be hard for you, I think, but you’ll be okay.” Ranboo glanced down to his legs, then returned his eyes to Tommy’s worried face.

He watched as the hybrid did his thing, not exactly having a choice in the matter since his legs were damaged and he couldn’t curse the poor teen out. His wrist was in a splint, but he knew it was broken.

The bandages were removed to see some nasty scars from... whatever happened. He actually couldn’t remember, which only made him worry more. Ranboo dabbed some magic on those cuts and watched them glow and half-close, as most healing potions did. It helped with the pain, too, numbing the area enough to get rid of the stinging sensation.

The wind slammed against the cabin, causing some groans in the wood. Ranboo fixed up his arm and moved to his other less broken wrist—though his shoulder hurt like a bitch and he couldn’t move it all too well.

The hybrid removed a cloth from his head and rested a fresher part of the rag on his cut, focusing on his task instead of the drowsy kid. He was silent, which was a blessing and a curse to Tommy. He wanted to have aconversation to make this whole thing less awkward. He had so many questions. So many things to yell.So many ways to insult the enderman. But, in contrast, he didn’t want him to talk to himself. He’d prefer the silence than not being able to respond verbally.

Ranboo paused, then discarded the rag in a bin and strolled off, shoes clicking against the wood. A few minutes passed until a few people entered. 

“Tommy!” Tubbo ran forward, grinning ear to ear as he leapt to his side and half hugged him. He made a short groaning sound that cause the other to let go, concern crossing his face.

“How are you feeling?”

“He had a hard time talking...” The enderman muttered and eyed him from the edge of the room.

Tommy looked up at Tubbo, feeling his mind slip back into darkness. He blinked a few times and gave Tubbo a small smile. The ceiling behind him started to swirl, the bed he was on fell beneath him. He felt like the world was crumbling around him. The voices turned distant again.

“Hey, Tommy?” Tubbo leaned over, eyes wide. “Tommy, can you hear me? What’s going on—“

Someone pulled the panicking teen back, right as the world crashed around him.

“He’s awake.”

Tommy let out an irritated groan, pressing his hands to his forehead. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You can’t keep doing this.” Wilbur reminded him, strolling around the void. “Choose a side. Life or death. Can’t be too hard.”

The teen opened his mouth to shoot something back, then closed it and sighed. It had been... a month. Maybe? It felt like decades, shifting between life and death, never staying in one for too long... it was tiring. He felt exhausted no matter what he did.

So why wasn’t he dead for good?

“How long has it been?”

“You think we know? Time doesn’t work here.”

He grit his teeth and reached out into the living world. Nothing had changed.  _ Nothing _ . 

And he couldn’t remember anything. Why he was here, or why he was in the bed... he remembered his past visits to the afterlife, but nothing else—and absolutely nothing when he was alive. He knew that something happened, but before he could remember, he’d be thrown back into the void. He couldn’t recognize anyone but the three dead people and Tubbo. He had no plan—he couldn’t wait long enough to make one, the ghosts were useless and he couldn’t do shit in the living world.

This was a nightmare. 

“I’m going back.”

“Your loss.” Schlatt scoffed with an eye roll, glaring at the white emptiness of the void.

Tommy let out a snarl and pulled himself back to reality.

There was a lot of shouting. He couldn’t tell who was who, only able to discern the occasional input from Tubbo. All of the past months of trying to survive disappeared from his mind, an odd feeling of nostalgia without any memory. He clenched his jaw and cleared his throat, finding that it was dry and sore. His head was also throbbing. Bit by bit, the pain across his body returned until he was just... aching. 

Someone slammed their fist into the wall, shaking the house. It startled him and only made his headache worse. He brought a hand to his eyes and rubbed them, trying to force the pain away.

“So what? They rot in prison? He should be dead, we all know that. We should stop—“

“No, no we shouldn’t.” Tubbo snarled right back, on the balls of his feet to get into the hybrid’s face. 

“We’re letting him suffer! The Eggpire wants him dead too. Everyone in this room is working their asses off keeping him alive and I’m tired of it. If it weren’t for him this place would be another crater in the ground.”

“Try it. I dare you.” 

“Both of you calm down.” Someone else huffed, resting his hand on the larger guy’s shoulder. “We’ll figure something out.”

“You’re joking.” The piglin snarled, turning on the blonde. “He’s been like that for months. He’s dead, all it takes is to stop giving him healing pots—“

“It’s not happening—“

He leaned his head back and rubbed his temples.

“Yes, it is!”

“No—“

“If you want to sit here and waste your time on him, go ahead.” 

“He’s worth  _ my _ time, Techno.”

The winged man sighed and shook his head, not uttering a word. 

The boar snorted. “But he’s not. You know that.”

Someone new cleared his throat. “I think he is—“

“You’re not helping.”

“He’s not—“

“Can y’all shut the fuck up?”

The entire room froze and turned their heads to stare at the apparently conscious teen. He eyed them from afar, failing to make out faces and also failing to recognize them. His speech was slurred and raspy, but of course it was. His heart started to pick up it’s pace.

Who were they?

“He—“

“Tommy!” Tubbo ran forward with a big grin, “You—you can talk!”

He reached over to touch him, but a familiar glare from him stopped him from doing so. 

“Where am I?”

“SnowChester. My house. I can’t believe you’re...” 

Tubbo turned away and held a hand to his face, the rest of the room giving the two looks of sympathy. Someone else strolled forward, black cloak swirling around him. Tommy focused on his face, eyes narrowed in effort.

“How are you feeling?”

Tommy shrugged and glanced away, a nervous feeling growing in his gut. The blonde leaned down, a single digit held in front of his face. 

“Can you see? Follow my finger.”

Tommy did as told when the finger moved side to side, pressed to the bed as much as he could. 

“Yeah. Why—“

“You can obviously hear.” His shoulders dropped, a sigh leaving him. The tension in the room spiked, though Tommy didn’t know why, and couldn't see the others to tell if they were about to kill each other.

“Do you remember what happened?” He asked.

“No...”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I...” Tommy blinked and leaned back, staring at the ceiling instead. 

Why couldn’t he remember anything ? He tried to recall something—anything. But he couldn’t—it was just  _barely_ out of his reach. Flickers of remembrance—but no clear images or sounds. He thought he had a dream last night, but couldn’t remember that either. His chest tightened, eyes dancing across an invisible map of events that he still  _ couldn’t see _ _._

“I... can’t.”

The man in front of him set his jaw and nodded slowly, almost painfully so. He was deep in thought, a hand reaching out from under the cloak and messing with the blanket thrown across him.

“It’s okay. It’ll come back to you. Do you remember me?”

Tommy focused on the brit and shook his head no. A flash of pain entered his eyes, but he pushed it away with a struggling smile.

“Okay... that’s okay.” He turned to glare at the rest of them, shooing them with just a look. Tommy still couldn’t tell who was there. They all turned tail and left—except Tubbo, who was out of sight and sniffling.

“I’m going to make sure you’re okay. Do you remember your name?”

“TommyInnit.”

“Good... good.” He sighed and stretched out something under his cloak—a wing?—and wrapped it around Tubbo. He brought the smaller boy over while he quickly cleaned himself up.

“Do you remember him?”

Tommy and Tubbo stared at each other. He smiled. 

“Tubbo.”

The brunette grinned and nodded enthusiastically, wiping away the rest of his tears from his reddened face. 

“Very good. I’m Philza, by the way...”

Tommy studied him for a moment and rested his hand on his chest, finger tapping quickly while he tried to remember again. He knew that name—he knew this man. But he didn’t know why.

“Don’t push yourself.” Tubbo said, glancing away. “You’ve uh... been through a lot.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll leave you two alone.”

“I’m tired.” Tommy grumbled and glared at the ceiling. Why was he tired? Didn’t he just wake up?

The two shared a glance as Philza returned to his side. “Can you describe how you’re feeling?”

“Why...?”

“You’ve been awake before. Never talked, but you’d be awake for ten minutes before passing out.”

Tommy nodded and ran his tongue across his lips. “I feel tired. That’s all.”

“You sure?”

“I’m fine.” He spat. 

“Okay... okay. Right. Please...” Phil sighed, hesitating before resting a hand on his son’s forehead. “Please wake up this time, okay?”

Tommy eyed them curiously, then snorted and closed his eyes.

“Fine.”

“Something’s wrong.”

Wilbur felt it before Schlatt did, and before the hybrid could ask what the fuck he was on about, he felt it too. They shared a look and glared down at Mexican Dream—who had been ranting about something in Spanish. He was cut off too, sitting up and peering through the mask he wore.

“What the fuck, man?”

“We didn’t do it.”

There it was again, like an annoying notification in their skulls, beckoning them to go somewhere. But  _ where _ .

Schlatt scoffed in his spot on the ground, swirling liquid in a glass. “Tommy hasn’t come back. You think he’s finally dying?”

“Maybe...” Wilbur glared around the emptiness, trying to look for a glimpse of bright blonde hair.

All they did was blink, and suddenly, they were in a huge dark room, the ceiling hundreds of feet above them. A hallway that led nowhere was at their side. A portal was the only light left, besides the glowstone that gleamed behind a very big group of people. Someone stood in the middle. He wore a green hoodie under an orange jumper, a single burning eye seen behind a cracked, smiling, mask.

Wilbur’s hand flew to his throbbing skull, even the dim lights too much for him. He peered behind narrowed eyes, seeing that the other two did the same—MD cursing quite loudly.

“There. Am I free now?” The masked man turned to his captors, scowling. A man in a creeper mask nodded hesitantly and gestured to the portal. The man flashed them all a twisted grin as he passed, hands stuffed in his pockets as the portal consumed him.

Wilbur was able to stand first, glaring at the group. He swayed a little, his senses slowly kicking in. He recognized almost everybody, a whole slew of questions and feelings entering him. Eyes watched him, a million of their own questions and statements unspoken as the three scrambled to their feet. 

Wilbur set his jaw and settled with a simple phrase that summarized everything:

“What the fuck did you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all I cried when I saw how many people had seen this. Thank you so much! Ever kudo and comment makes me so incredibly happy.  
> Also follow me on Instagram please:  
> @mistic_all_fandoms


	3. Kids These Days...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go :)

“I had a weird dream last night...” Tommy muttered, eyes closed and hands loosely kept on his chest. Philza and Tubbo were sitting in chairs near him, busy playing chess while they kept the teen company.

“Oh yeah? What was it about?”

“I... hm.” He furrowed his brow. “I was running I think. And I fell and... woke up.”

Tubbo grit his teeth and moved a pawn forward. 

“That’s vague.”

“Yeah... I guess it is.”

There was a knock on the door. The winged man stood and peered out the windows, an air of fear making his wings rustle under the cloak. He let out a gasp and opened the door.

“Wil?”

“Phil!”

Tommy’s eyes flew open, head twisting to see the familiar voice. But  _where_ and _why_ did he know him ? He looked to Tubbo instead, who had since paled and glared at the game on the mini table.

“Hey—hey, watch it. I’m still light headed, old man.”

“Don’t call him that.” The piglin—Technoblade—huffed. “He’ll kill you again.”

There was an uncomfortable chuckle outside.

“Too soon?”

“Yeah.” Wilbur said, “Where is he?”

The party moved inside. Tommy couldn’t see that far, but he recognized that trench coat anywhere. He swallowed his anxiety as the man stepped forward.

“You made it out alive.”

“Yeah. I did...?” He grinned sheepishly, finally able to focus on his sharp features. Wilbur grinned.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“No?”

“Bah, whatever. Do you remember me?”

“You’re Wilbur.”

“Oh,” Technoblade rolled his eyes and glared at them, “so he remembers  _ you _ .”

“Does he not remember you?” Wilbur turned and stared at the blood god, brow tilted.

“Nope.”

“There’s a lot to catch you up on.” Phil messed with his hands and nodded to the small table. “A lot you... missed.”

“Clearly.” Someone else scoffed and stepped to the side, a pair of horns adorning his head. Tommy didn’t recognize him—but Tubbo did, from the horrified look on his face.

“He revived _both_ of you?”

“Yup. Hey, kid. Love what you did to Manberg.” The ram grinned vilely.

“Why thank you.” Techno smirked.

“Who’s that?” Tommy whisper-yelled to Wilbur, tugging on the edge of his trench coat. The man looked down at him, a frown replacing his grin.

“Schlatt? J’Schlatt? You don’t remember him? You watched him die... like, twice, Tommy.”

Tommy’s mouth hung open, then closed, and he settled back into the bed with a simple “oh”. Wilbur stared him down, silent, eyes dancing up and down the teen’s resting frame. He then turned on Philza.

“I don’t like this Tommy. Where’s the old him, the free, troublemaker I knew?”

“Dead.” Tubbo spat sourly, taking everyone off guard. He glared up at Wilbur, but didn’t expand on that.

“Jesus, kid. You’ve changed too.” Schlatt’s ears flicked back out of habit. Tubbo just huffed and returned to the game, either trying to glare holes into the board or planning his next move—Tommy couldn’t tell from the distance.

“Tea, anyone?” Philza broke the silence with a smile. Most of them nodded and grabbed extra wooden chairs to settle in and catch up. Which was now Tubbo’s and Technoblade’s job.

“So, tell us, what have we missed?”

“I destroyed L’manberg.” Techno started, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “But before that...”

“Tommy was exiled,” Tubbo piled in, glaring at the two ex-dead people, “then he lived with Technoblade, then he blew up L’manberg.”

“Right. And...”

“Then Dream tried to kill me and throw Tommy in prison, but everyone except Techno and Phil came to stop him. He was in prison, and during that, there was a whole Egg cult thing and Ranboo lost his mind, I think.”

“Slow down, fuck.” Schlatt grinned and shook his head, eyeing the kid with a skeptical look. “Dream tried to kill you?”

_Dream_. That was a name he recognized. Tommy couldn’t remember a face. Just... a mask. An emoticon. The scent of gunpowder. Being up in the sky...

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the sudden surge of panic that filled his chest. 

_Dream_. He... what did he do? He did something bad, but good. He was a friend... right? He was there for him at one point. He couldn’t figure out when. He couldn’t remember—

_ Why couldn’t he remember?  _

His lungs filled with ash. That was something that happened whenever he did remember something—a ring in his ears and smoke that suffocated him. The first time, someone was standing in the middle of it all with a sword through his chest. The second, and many times after that, he felt pieces of himself get blown away. Hard work get turned to rubble. Another time, he was watching it rain, with barely enough time to get a word out between the loud noises and shouting. 

And the last time, he was pinned to the ground, in the dark, inhaling more ash than he could handle.

He couldn’t remember what happened, _why_ it happened. He just knew that he couldn’t see anything besides that stupid smiling mask.

“ Tommy !”

The mask splintered out of view, replaced by Philza’s stern glare.

“Five things you can see. Name them, out loud.”

Tommy didn’t like the stern tone he used.  _ Why _ .

“Come on, you can do it. It’s just me and you right now. Five things.”

Tommy knew he was speaking, but couldn’t hear himself. He was breathing very, very heavily—the sudden burn in his lungs reminding him that he wasn’t pinned to the ground. Or surrounded by fire. Philza’s shoulders relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Good. Five things you can touch.”

Tommy’s gaze drifted to his arms. Both of them were tight in his grip, the bandages having long since been discarded. Scars both old and new scattered along his skin, most on his hands from... well, he couldn’t remember. He spoke again, but like last time, he couldn’t hear himself.

“There you go. What can you hear?”

Tommy swallowed. Philza was on the bed too. Tommy could feel his back against the wall, keeping him upright. When did he move?

“U-Uh... you...?”

Phil’s smile widened, “Good. It’s quiet here, so I’ll let that one slide.”

Tommy just nodded and avoided his gaze.

He was pulled forward, face buried in the man’s chest, a hand in his messy hair. Tommy froze, unsure as to what to do, then felt himself crumble. He grabbed the man’s cloak and grit his teeth, his panicked breaths turning into slow sobs.

A part of him expected comforting words, no matter how fake, but nothing came. It was silent, besides him crying. The ringing had long since passed. The smile in his mind’s eye was gone, too, now only a fuzzy memory.

Eventually, he calmed down enough to push himself away and stubbornly wipe his face free. Philza smiled and messed with his hair before standing up.

“I’ll be back, okay?”

Tommy just nodded and let out a calming breath.

Philza joined the others upstairs, watching Tubbo pace and the adults shuffle awkwardly. Emotions weren’t really... anyone’s place of expertise. Wilbur glared at his dad with his arms crossed.

“He okay?”

“Yeah...” he sighed, leaning against the wall and rubbing his forehead. “Does anyone know what caused it?”

Technoblade glared down at the teen, who glared right back and tossed his hands up.

“What? I didn’t do shit and you know it.”

“He mentioned Dream a lot.” Technoblade hissed, voice lower than usual. “Right after you did.”

“How was I supposed to know it would trigger him.” Tubbo spat back, light eyes set ablaze with fury.

“Yeah, I miss the old Tommyinnit.” Schlatt scoffed, earning a glare from the others. He continued: “The fuck happened to him to get him so... fucked up?”

“I don’t know what Dream did, but there’s other reasons.” Techno shrugged, adjusting his blue cloak.

“He doesn’t remember, does he?” Wilbur asked, turning his gaze to Phil.

“No. Asking him is out of the question.”

“I told you.” Techno’s eyes fell to the floor. “It’s a full time job taking care of the kid, dead or alive.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” Tubbo snapped, spinning around mid-pace and glaring up at the piglin.

“Because I’m not heartless. And, plus, Phil needs a bodyguard.”

“Thanks.” The avian rolled his eyes. “Are you taking them to the cabin?”

“No? They can go live somewhere else.” Techno huffed, pointing to the two resurrected men. They glared back, sharing the same stupid jokingly offended look.

“Wow...”

“Thanks, T.”

“No problem.” Techno grinned, turning to Phil again. “You stayin?”

“Yeah, if it’s okay...”

“Sure.” Tubbo scoffed and stormed down the stairs, followed by the others. They instantly stared at Tommy, who hadn’t moved since Phil left.

His hands were in his lap, a finger tapping against his leg that was covered by the blankets. His head hung, face red and eyes puffy, tear tracks still on his cheeks. His hair, which was a mess and incredibly dirty, hung over his eyes, but they could tell he was staring at his legs. Upon hearing Techno take the last step of the stairs loudly, he looked up enough to stare back at them, a dull look in his once vibrant eyes. He couldn’t focus on them, but that wasn’t anything new. He cleared his throat and uttered some words with a shaking, flat voice;

“I can’t feel my legs.”

The SMP was quiet without Tommy running around causing mayhem. _Guess he’d never do that again_ , Phil thought bitterly, Ranboo and Technoblade at his sides as they strolled from the nether portal towards SnowChester. Niki and Jack Manifold had been set free, following them from a distance. They looked nervous, walking with three of the four most infamous villains in the history of the SMP: Technoblade, Wilbur Soot, and J’Schlatt. The two men cackled to each other, sharing inside jokes and reminiscing over the fall of the country they once governed. It was unsettling to Jack and Niki, but they didn’t dare speak out of turn. 

The next to join the group was BadboyHalo and Antfrost, who sheathed their swords and slung their tridents on their backs. They followed silently, glaring at nothing in particular. It disturbed everyone, but they didn’t mind.

Captian Puffy and Sam were next, sliding in between the ex-ghosts and the three upfront, sending glares back to the Eggpire citizens. Technoblade sighed dramatically.

“So many governments, so little time.”

“You better not touch SnowChester until this whole thing’s over.” Phil warned, pointing a finger to the hybrid accusingly. “Nows not the time for anarchy.”

“No fun.” He snorted and rolled his eyes.

Of all people to join them, another teen hopped to Ranboo’s side, a purple hoodie under his armor. He glared up at the half-enderman and waved.

“Can’t believe we’re going to a meeting.” Technoblade scoffed, unsettled by the quiet between them all.

“I know.” Schlatt groaned, leaning on Wilbur as they walked with the confidence of kings. “How lame is that. What’s it about, anyway?”

“Dream ordered it, so... who knows!” Ranboo smiled nervously and shrugged, tail flicking below him.

“Tubbo’s with Tommy, right?” Purpled asked, not an ounce of worry in his voice.

“Yeah. Why?” Phil turned to glare at the kid.

“Just wondering. Didn’t Dream try to kill Tubbo?”

“This time, he has Nukes.” 

Everyone up front stopped and spun on their heels to glare at Jack Manifold, the man fumbling with his words before holding his arm and staring at the ground instead.

“Sorry. Sorry...”

“You’re lucky there’s more than two people here, or else you’d be dead.” Techno grumbled and continued to lead the way, being followed closely.

“Yeah... so you tried to kill Tommyinnit.” Wilbur hummed thoughtfully. “You’re not the first one to try. Or fail.”

“Isn’t he your bother or some shit?” Schlatt tilted his brow and sent his friend a sideways glare.

“He _is_ my brother. Phil adopted him.”

“Ten bucks says this meeting’s about him.” Puffy mused, those around her nodding in agreement rather than challenge.

“Everything’s about him.”

“Well, he did almost die.”

“Again...”

Eyes rose up to meet Ranboo’s, though no one stopped walking this time. He held up his hands in defense.

“I-I mean... you know... he has a death wish and all that...”

They started to cross the awfully long bridge from the embassy towards SnowChester, another silence falling over them.

When they broke through to the little nation, a small group had collected on the ice. Tubbo stood behind Sapnap and Eret, all three glaring ahead at a fully armored Dream. Fundy sat on a railing and glanced away from the incoming group, a more enthusiastic Quackity and KarlJacobs below him. Their smiles faltered at the sight of the last two in the group—the two corrupted individuals sharing a mutual glare back.

“So whats this about?” Wilbur asked, eyeing Dream carefully. He had gotten a new mask, untainted porcelain glistening in the mid-morning sun.

“Just a meeting involving most of the SMP. What’s going on. So we’re all on the same page.”

They glared skeptically at Dream. Tubbo glanced back to his house, double checking that the blinds were closed. They were.

“Theres a lot of secret things that are meant to stay secret going on.” Techno mused with a vague gesture, crossing his arms soon after. “We don’t need to tell you anything.”

“Is this your idea of a trap?” Quackity huffed, a grin crawling on his face. “You poor, poor soul. Forgot you can’t take on twenty people at once?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why are we here.” Niki clenched her fists.

“Why did you come?”

Well, no one had an answer for that. Fundy let out a cackling chuckle and tilted his head.

“You don’t just ignore a meeting in SnowChester of all places. Summoned by Dream himself.”

“It is sus.” Wilbur nodded, glancing back to Tubbo’s house. “Right where Tommy’s kept.”

“Including people that want him dead too.” Sam and Puffy sent glares to the Eggpire. Bad sighed.

“The _egg_ wants him dead. If there was another way, we wouldn’t have to. But we do.”

“Why?” Eret huffed. “The kid might as well be dead.”

“Need I remind everyone that he is, in fact, a child?” Puffy shook her head and held her hands out to everyone. “Am I the only one that knows that?”

“Yeah...” Ranboo shuffled behind Technoblade and Philza, who hadn’t moved from their spot in front of the house.

“He did start every single conflict on the server.” Sapnap shrugged.

“For what, disks and a country?” Techno glared back at Tubbo for confirmation, who set his jaw and nodded stiffly.

“He could’ve destroyed the egg.” Sam piped in, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “But he didn’t.”

“Oh, great. Now that fuckin c— that weird shit’s gonna cover the server.” Fundy groaned and dug his claws into the stone so he didn’t fall off.

“He’d be dead by now if he destroyed it.” Bad shared a glance with Antfrost. 

“What _is_ this about?” Tubbo hissed, glancing from face to face as they turned to look at him. “Why are we talking about this? Why not something else?”

“Because, Tubbo...” Dream hadn’t moved an inch, but seemed to magically reappear nonetheless. 

“This meeting _is_ about him. I didn’t even need to say a word and you all brought him up. Isn’t that proof enough that’s it’s his time to go?”

Tubbo visibly tensed, though no one spoke for a good few seconds. KarlJacobs cleared his throat and spoke up for the first time in, well, a long, long time.

“How is he, by the way?”

“Paralyzed.” Tubbo huffed, voice cracking. “And amnesiac. And you’re right, he might as well be dead.” He turned on Eret, a new intensity in his eyes that made the king himself take a small step back.

“But if he dies, then I’ll nuke the SMP until there’s nothing left.”

Jaws dropped. Eyes widened. What else did he expect from such a bold statement? There was another hush, when Dream let out a little laugh.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Did I stutter?”

Dream was left speechless this time, mask tilting down to stare at the ice instead. 

“That...” Purpled shook his head, shuffling to Badboyhalo’s side, “that’s not fair.”

“Nothing in this world is.” He huffed right back. “Get used to it.”

“You’re willing to kill everyone for him?” Techno asked, lips curling back in a surprised smile rather than a sneer.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

His voice was level. He wasn’t going to change his mind, nor was he doubting his statement for a second. 

“Is this meeting over?” Wilbur asked, scanning the crowd. 

KarlJacobs, of all people, was the first one to move towards the forest and leave. Dream was next, earning glares from everyone as he entered the tunnel. Some turned back to enter the house, a cue for everyone else to leave too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHOHOHO! What will happen next?? The anticipation—


	4. A Fatal Mistake

Tommy didn’t know much. Usually when he woke up, it would be eerily quiet or someone would be yelling. With the ex-dead people loitering around, there was always a thick level of tension. No one wanted to say anything, or reminisce over the old times, or bond over it. They wanted to glare at each other and make uncomfortable remarks instead. He knew what they were doing by hanging around SnowChester. They wanted to keep him company, which was nice, he figured. An odd part of him had deja vu... like this had happened before, or maybe the opposite? It was unsettling that being stuck in a bed reminded him of something. The whole arguing thing was new. He wasn’t sure if he liked that type of company—company that only pays attention to him when he’s panicking.

He glared at the group as they discussed something he didn’t bother listening to. Something about a meeting at the castle instead of SnowChester, and who wanted to go versus who didn’t—etcetera. Tommy let out a sigh and messed with his fingernails instead, half listening.

“I think you’re being paranoid.” Wilbur mused from his seat, legs crossed. He was eyeing Tubbo thoughtfully, the other adults sharing the same skeptical look.

“I  should be skeptical. Why wouldn’t I?”

“If everyone’s there, then Tommy will be fine.” 

“But not everyones going to go. When’s the last time the  entire server was in one place?” Ranboo gestured vaguely, tail coiled around the leg of his chair. 

“Thank you.” Tubbo huffed irritably and crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur. “Disaster strikes at those things.”

Tommy blinked, head swiveling to stare at the group.  _What does that mean?_

Technoblade nodded. “He’s right.”

“He’s being silly.” Wilbur insisted with a scoff. “Unless this is about the festival—“

“Which one?” Schlatt snickered and tapped his fingers on the wood of the table, itching for either a cigarette or a shot of whiskey.

No one found that amusing besides Wilbur.

“Stop laughing.” Tubbo hissed.

“So it  is about the festivals. Get over it, Tubbo.”

The rest of the group shuffled uncomfortably and backed out of the conversation, glancing between a grinning Wilbur and a seething Tubbo.

“Get over it?”

“Yeah! It happened a long time ago. If you’re still upset about it, then stop.”

“You’re joking, surely.” His voice lowered dangerously, shaking. 

“Let it go! You lost a life and I died, which ones worse?”

“You practically killed yourself after blowing up L’manburg. _You_ did that—”

Tommy clenched his jaw and stared at his nails instead, chipping away at one.

“You need to let it go.”

“Isn’t this a little familiar? Change the word meeting with festival, switch Tommy and I— tadah!”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Am I the only one that’s concerned about this?” He tossed his arms up defiantly, glaring around the room. “Am I the only one that  cares about this?”

“I care.” Ranboo glanced away. 

“Of course we care. It’s best to stay calm and think rationally.” Philza piped in. 

“You need to let it go, man.” Wilbur huffed. “No one’s gonna die.”

Tubbo stared at him for a few seconds, trying to find a decent way to reply without loosing his head. It gave him time to cool down, sighing instead and glaring at the floor. Tommy glanced over, deciding not to ask about anything that was discussed—afraid that he would be told something he didn’t want to know.

—————————

Intermission

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Intermission end.

—————————  
  


Of course no one came to attack Tommy. Why would they? It was too perfect, and besides, Ranboo didn’t show up to the meeting. Though everyone knew Dream, or anyone for that matter, could take him on, it was too predictable to go during a meeting far away from SnowChester.

No one expected to wake up the following morning and see him gone, stolen from right under their noses.

And Sam didn’t expect to enter the prison, seeing Dream holding the teen with one arm, the other holding an axe to his throat. 

And he certainly didn’t expect to give in and lead Dream into the highest security cell. He held his sword’s hilt until Dream set him down on the obsidian floor and strolled on back with a grin under that stupid smiling mask.

“Lock him up, Sam.”

He glared at him, side stepping to avoid a friendly shoulder hold. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Sam, you know he deserves this. Look at all the pain he caused.”

“But—“

“Tubbo’s full of shit. You know that. Deep down, he wants Tommy dead too. We all do, Sam. So just... he can stay here, alive, but no one can know.”

Sam glanced across the shrunken pool of lava to see him leaning against the chest full of empty books, legs held loosely in front of him, a hand to his face—though he couldn’t hear what he was doing. His eyes fell to the lava, then returned to Dream.

“What if I say no?”

Dream laughed lightheartedly, shaking his head and leaning in, their masks almost touching. Sam clenched his teeth, staring at the blank smiling mask like his life depended on it.

“Then I’ll kill him. Then you. _You_ don’t want him dead, do you? So, I’ll tell you what. He stays, alive, and you stay alive and quiet. Deal?”

He held a gloved hand out, still and patient. Sam let out a sigh, glancing across the lava again.

Everything told him not to. Everything but the egg. That stupid parasite in his mind, chanting cryptic words that were once hard to decipher. But now... now he heard them loud and clear, hissing the same phrase over and over and over again and he just wanted it to _stop_. 

And in order to do that, he had to go against every other instinct in his body. He took Dream’s hand and gave it a shake.

“Deal.”

Dream hummed thoughtfully and leaned away, not bothering to glance back at the lava, or the child in the obsidian box.

“Great! Lead me out, Warden. I think we’re done here.”

Sam closed his eyes and tore his gaze away from the flash of yellow and red across the bubbling oranges, typing in the code to release the lava back into the room. He managed to hiss out an apology. It wasn’t heard by anyone. 

Have you ever gotten that feeling where you wake up and something’s wrong? Like you get that lingering feeling in your gut that you fucked up, but you don’t remember what? Then, after laying in bed for a few minutes or after your first sip of coffee—it hits you—and that nervous feeling intensified because  oh fuck you remember that thing you forgot to do/you missed/you’re gonna miss—

Imagine that feeling, but instead of just in your mind and soul, it’s lingering across an entire server of apprehensive, tense individuals. That feeling only getting intensified when  Technoblade sends out a message:

_ Meet at castle, thirty minutes. _

But unlike the rest of the server, Ranboo was there for that regrettable moment. He woke up, followed Tubbo downstairs, and stared at an empty bed. There as a slight hint of smoke in the air from the blown out candles. 

He was also there when Tubbo ran outside to look for footprints, blood, missing items— anything.  And he was there when the adults woke up and stumbled down, sharing that same look of terror and racing out to search. 

He should’ve been more careful. He was put in charge of making sure he wasn’t kidnapped—and yet that’s exactly what happened. Someone,  _ anyone _ , kidnapped him. 

How? There were no signs of struggle—nothing knocked over, nothing broken, no claw marks in the wood or mud tracks inside the house. Nothing was left behind. So, really, it could’ve been  anyone .

Ranboo’s already fragile mind began to spin. He blinked away his persistent thoughts, knowing for a fact that it couldn’t be him. It didn’t make sense—he was asleep with everyone else! He, even while ender walking, couldn’t be that careful.

_Right_?

He clicked his tongue to the top of his mouth and dug around his ender chest, grabbing out a new, untouched and unwritten book. He hesitated, deeply pondering what he was doing.

If he wanted to find out who did this, and  why , and what would happen if Tommy wasn’t found...

Then he needed another book.

Thirty minutes passed.

Everyone was there, covered head to toe in their best gear, holding or reaching for their weapons. The flag high above the castle billowed on the wind, creating a flapping sound that drowned out the rest of the world’s noise. Ranboo couldn’t stop listening to it—it was better than focusing on the weight of his own armor. 

Dream was there, standing next to Sam. Covered head to toe in Netherite, of course. His new mask was tilted towards him, making the hybrid shuffle backwards behind his little group. He felt like he was being watched, like those eyes behind that white mask were on him, threatening him, mocking him, telling him things that weren’t true. Ranboo’s knuckles turned a shade of purple from how tightly he clutched the straps of his book bag.

“Well?” The masked man barked, gesturing vaguely. “Why did you call us here?”

“Why did  _ you _ call us here.” Quackity hissed, arms folded. 

Technoblade hesitated, eyeing the man carefully. Not to size him up—no, of course not—but to reevaluate his words. Really take into account what happened the past few months. Ranboo felt his ears fall.

“Tommy was kidnapped.”

A year ago, they would all just grin and shrug it off—a select few might joke around to go save him. Everyone would continue with life without a second thought. That was back when New L’manburg existed. For a moment, everyone was back in those days, ready to snicker and walk away, or mock Technoblade for having a soft spot.

But this wasn’t before exile. Or doomsday. Or the Disk War. This wasn’t before Pogtopia or L’manburg. This was an era of cults, child murderers and  _ Nukes _ .

No one laughed like they would’ve back then. Instead, eyes fell to the seething teen, who was dressed in his SnowChester coat under his glistening Netherite armor, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes to the wooden path that led into the castle. He grit his teeth, but otherwise remained neutral. At least, Ranboo thought so.

The only person who wasn’t considering the statement was Dream, who tilted his mask to make the smile crooked. Ranboo actively turned away to keep what was left of his crumbling thoughts. His voice didn’t exactly help.

“And?”

“We want to know who.” Wilbur pipped up, then cleared his throat and stepped forward so he was the center of attention. “Because it’s taken _all of us_ to keep  someone from pressing a big red button in a  _ certain _ room. And... I don’t know, might be best to let you all know that...”

Karl took a noticeable step to the side, emerging from behind his fellow Kinoko Kingdom members. He glanced around, dulled eyes darting from face to face before offering a small grin.

“He’s not dead, right?”

“The egg knows he’s not.” BadboyHalo nodded thoughtfully and glanced down to the group half-shielding Ranboo and Tubbo. “And I didn’t—I would never kidnap him.”

Puffy let out a gasp of disbelief. “But you’d kill him? He’s a kid.” 

Sam leaned up to respond, but a dismissive hand from Dream stopped him. 

“Look. Wherever he is, he’ll be fine. Maybe he ran away.”

“He  can’t .” Phil scoffed, wings half flared—feathers blocking Techno’s and J’Schlatt’s views. They managed to pull down enough of his damaged feathers to watch.

“Bad example. But you get the point.”

Karl tried to ask a question, easily getting talked over by Puffy and Bad. 

“The egg wants what it wants, Puffy. Who am I to judge it?”

“Did you kidnap him? Did you feed him to the egg?”

“No—“

“Are you trying to lie so you’re precious omelet won’t get blown up?”

“And—“ Karl managed to break past their heated argument, eyes returning to him. He stared at the group that had beckoned them all there in the first place—trying to peer behind Techno to see the teen.

“And... what would happen if he died?”

Heads swiveled back to the group—the adults in front shuffling to the side to let Tubbo speak. He looked up from the ground, a dark glint in his eyes, his hand messing with something in his pocket. The teen looked exhausted, and cold—his nose a nice shade of pink from staying out in the snow for too long. That, or he was on the verge of tears. Ranboo couldn’t blame him for that.

“Then I’ll press the button.”

A wave of uncomfortable silence filled the space. Karl nodded quickly and pressed a hand to his face. Just like last time, no one knew what to say. Ranboo dug out his newest book and began to write something, partially to keep his eyes off Dream and also to fill the silence with something—like the sound of a pencil to paper. 

“Hear that?”

Dream’s voice was soft. Still the same old monotone voice—but quiet, carried by the wind and the silence. He was undoubtedly grinning under that mask. The man took a step forward, metal boots clicking against the wood, and he extended his arms to everyone.

“That’s right. Nothing. I don’t care what happened to Tommy. I hope he’s okay, sure, but at the end of the day...”

He chuckled. Tubbo’s fist clenched around the item in his pocket, eyes narrowing into a smoldering glare.

“...this’ll let the server heal. No more disks, and hotels, no more houses getting burned and nations getting destroyed. It’s quiet. We’re at peace. This is a blessing in disguise.”

KarlJacobs shook his head vigorously and tucked back behind George and Sapnap, who considered what their old friend said.

“Do you really believe that?” Tubbo snarled, stepping forward to be beside Wilbur, who watched him with a semi-proud look on his face. Dream nodded, hands falling behind his back.

“I don’t think you do. You need him the most. He’s—he’s the  key . You said it yourself.”

“He still is. If I knew where he was, I’d definitely tell you. You know that.” Dream sang, turning his head ever so slightly to give Sam a look. Sam stared back blankly, then blinked a few times—as if he was hit with a stone to remember his train of thought. He cleared his throat and addressed the crowd.

“He’s not in the prison. I checked every cell, every wall, every... nook and cranny. I also checked the hotel I’ve been working on, and the egg room... the crater of L’manburg. He’s gone.”

“See?” Bed pointed to Sam, turning on Puffy. “Not with us.”

“You have him somewhere else, then. In a cage. Waiting.” 

“Why would—“

“Bad’s not that smart.”Fundy piped up, tail lashing below him.

“Thank you—“ Bad paused, then turned on his heels and glared at the fox. “What—?”

Antfrost’s ears flicked. “Ignore them.”

“Oh!! I hear the egg now!” Quackity grinned, hands to his ears and a big grin on his face.

“...Really?” Sam eyed him cautiously.

“Yeah! Do you hear it too, Bad?”

“Are they serious?” Niki muttered to Jack, who shrugged. Ranboo looked up from his book.

Bad hesitated, then sighed. “Tell me what you hear.”

“Can’t you, Bad? Oh—Hear that, Bad? Hear it—the egg says to fuck off.” 

“Language—“

“Puffy’s right!” Quackity’s goofy attitude was gone in the blink of an eye, his bright grin replaced with an ugly snarl, teeth exposed partially from his past fight with Technoblade.

“He’s a kid! He’s done stupid shit, but everyone here has! We’re standing before Wilbur, who literally blew up his country, Schlatt, who had a stroke right in front of most of us, Technoblade, who helped blow up L’manburg not once, but twice, and  Dream ! Who was going to lock Skeppy up in a cell! Do you really think a teenager’s antics outweigh all of that?”

Bad didn’t know what to say, so Ant stepped forward, crimson eyes narrowed. “It’s what the egg wants.”

“Fuck that damn egg!” Puffy tossed her arms in the air. 

Bad muttered out a “Language.” before Philza continued the conversation.

“Are you suggesting that _we_ get sacrificed to the egg instead?”

“No—“

“Find him.” Tubbo spat, glaring daggers at the masked man. “That’s what this meetings about. Find him, and no one else dies.”

And with that, the meeting was over. Unfinished, but over. Ranboo stayed at Tubbo’s side, giving his note book one last glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENT BELOW OR CLICK MY POLLS ON INSTA OR TWITTER TO SEE WHICH ENDING I’LL POST FIRST.
> 
> BAD ENDING OR OC INTERVENTION/BETTER ENDING


	5. Entries Number One and Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the Tags a bit! There might be some derealization, violence, and death from this point forward.

Day One.

_Entry 1, XXX._

_The meeting got a bit off track but, I mean, what else can you expect with everything going on. I’ve stayed as far away from Dream as I can, and as close to Tubbo as I can. He’s... struggling, I think. He has the power to destroy everything, and he knows, and he will if we don’t find Tommy._

_I hope he’s alive, or none of this is going to end well. Please let him be alive._  
  


With no real reason to stay, Technoblade and Philza left SnowChester shortly after returning. Ranboo gave them a wave and watched them take the path back to the rest of the SMP, tail swishing below him nervously. The panic that had started in his chest rose into his throat, almost choking him if he didn’t know to take deep breaths. He needed to think.

The hybrid took another shaky breath and stepped onto the path. Even without a map, or a compass, or any real sense of direction, he knew where his panic room was. It tugged at his mind like a sixth sense, guiding his feet forward as he grew more hesitant. He dug his nails into his arms, staring at the grass along the riverbank, staying a good few feet away from the edge. The sun had barely reached the half-way point, and yet it felt like he had been awake for days. 

The meeting was a disaster—he knew that. Forty people with forty different goals and hopes and dreams. No one can actually control them, no matter how hard they tried. His breath hitched, but after a few more deep breaths, he kept himself from choking on his own fears.

He slipped on his armor and dove underwater, easily finding purchase against the tide. The water slipped between the cracks of his armor and stung him like a billion splinters entering and exiting his skin. Ranboo pulled himself into the room before he could get burned for real. 

A purple liquid instantly dropped onto his nose, shaking him out of his thoughts. He let out a puff of air to get it off, then wiped his face and looked around the room.

The enderman hadn’t been in there in... who knows how long. Since Dream’s release from Pandora’s Vault, at least. Once his eyes adjusted to he dark, he put his armor in a pile and sighed.

“Okay. Think. Let’s.... let’s think.”

What the fuck was he going to do? What could he do that would help? 

“Let’s... okay. What happened that... that lead to this moment.”

He pulled out one of his books and began to pace mindlessly, flipping through the pages.

“Dream was put in prison. Right. SnowChester became a... Commune. I tried to visit Dream but... I couldn’t.” He bared his teeth, holding back the emotions that had built in his chest. “But before that, the Nuke happened.”

That’s where everything was set in motion, he guessed quietly, huffing something else under his breath.

“Then... I was with Tubbo for most the time. And Tommy woke up. And...”

He had one job. He did it, during the meeting he had sat down and read, glancing to Tommy occasionally. The human was silent, sleeping through the day and not saying a word when he woke up. No one came by, no one broke in, and Ranboo was relieved that he didn’t fuck up.

Then everyone returned and strolled upstairs to sleep. Ranboo should’ve been more careful, maybe at least sleep in the same room as him. 

“No! No. There was... no way to see the future. It’s not my fault. It’s not anyone’s fault besides... whoever did it.” He pressed his back against the obsidian and dragged himself down, holding the book to his knees. Ranboo closed it and searched the cover absentmindedly, tail coiling around his body.

“What can I do now?”

He could start by getting rid of his building dread. Ranboo ran a hand through his hair and let all the air out of his lungs, then took a deep breath. That helped a little.

He needs to find out who took Tommy. That was next on his to do list—and he quickly scribbled it down in the book. The second point was another obvious one: Stay By Tubbo’s Side. 

“Yeah. I mean... I doubt Schlatt and Wilbur are staying with him. Tubbo has no one right now... so I’ll be there for him.”

A brief memory flashed in his mind, a faint smoldering crater twice the size of L’manhole echoing through his mind. It was horrifically quiet, so quiet that he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. He’d never forget it. 

So he promised himself he’d never see another one again.

“Point three. Stay away from Dream.”

That was an easy one. He was already doing it—and speaking of Dream, the voice hasn’t bugged him in a while. Guess Dream was too busy to haunt him.

Those were his top priorities. Make sure that nothing bad happened. Well, nothing _else_ that was bad happen. Determination replaced the bile in his throat, giving him a new burst of energy. He stood up and grabbed his things.

The way home was a little nicer, now that he had calmed down. He tilted his head up to the sun and soaked in the warmth. There was a chill breeze, but it felt nice in the summer heat. He entered the cold biome and entered the main house, expecting to see the place trashed or the inhabitants arguing in the main room.

Instead, everything was dark, and just how he left it. Tubbo was on the bed, pressed against the corner and messing with the blanket half-covered and half-clutching it to his face until his knuckles turned white.

Ranboo closed the door and stared at him, ears falling. Twenty four hours ago, someone else was in that bed, suffering from a bad case of amnesia and paralysis. The hybrid took a few tentative steps forward, then sat down beside the ex-president and rested his head in his hands.

Tubbo let out a shaking exhale and sniffled, somehow burring his face into the blanket even more. They enjoyed the quiet comfort, both lost in their own thoughts. 

Ranboo had to ruin it.

“You.... aren’t actually going to do it... are you?”

When Tubbo lowered the plush red fabric, he saw Ranboo staring at him. Their eyes met for a millisecond before Ranboo glanced to the blanket instead. The human almost forgot he was an enderman.

“I am.” He said, voice cracking. 

Ranboo closed his mis-matched eyes and shook his head. “No, Tubbo, you can’t, you—“

“Watch me.” He hissed back, then sniffled and hid his face with an arm. 

Ranboo watched him carefully. He nodded slowly, sighing.

“Okay. You shouldn’t. It’s not worth it.”

“He’s alive. I know he is. He doesn’t just... die like that. I should’ve...” Tubbo curled up in a small ball and bit back a sob. “He can’t be dead. He can’t...”

The hybrid rested a hand on his arm comfortingly, startling the teen. Tubbo forced himself to regain his composure, sitting up and wiping away his tears to glare at him.

“A-are you going to leave too?”

“Did... the others leave?”

He nodded and sputtered something bitter, incoherent behind clenched teeth and persistent crying. 

“Oh.”

Ranboo was right. With no one to fight for, they abandoned him. He set his jaw, ears pinned to his head and thumb rubbing against his friend’s skin.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until he’s okay.”

Tubbo blinked, mouth parting in shock. “You think—do you think he’s alive?”

“I do.” He smiled, “This isn’t how Tommyinnit dies.”

The human grinned and laughed, leaning into himself and breaking down with every inhale. Ranboo gave in and wrapped his arms around the smaller teen, squeezing his eyes shut. Tubbo gave in almost instantly, gripping the hybrid’s suit in his hands and sobbing onto his shoulder.

“He’ll be okay.”

Day Three.

_ Entry 2, XXX.  _

_ The server’s factions have split into sub factions. Techno couldn’t care less. Phil’s sad about loosing his second son. Wilbur and J’Schlatt are depleting the SMP of booze. Puffy’s genuinely concerned for Tommy and Tubbo, and she actually visited to talk to Tubbo. Sam’s acting weird. The Eggpire is not helping anything, and the vines grew three more feet in a day. I haven’t heard from Kinoko or the unaffiliated people... and Tubbo is, well, Tubbo. _

_ There’s one thing for sure. Everyone wants everyone else dead—Sam and Puffy want to kill Niki and Jack, the Eggpire wants Puffy and Sam dead—but half the SMP wants to find Tommy and keep him alive, while the other half wants him dead. That’s the only constant in this godforsaken world. _

_ Why? Why not just leave him alone? Where did he even go?? Tubbo hasn’t told me anything about what he plans on doing, but... by the way Puffy’s talking to him, being all soft and sweet to Tubbo... I think he told her something. _

His searching was fruitless. He wasn’t in Logstedshire, or hiding in Techno’s basement again. He wasn’t dragged into the woods and left for the wolves. He wasn’t in his house, obviously—but Ranboo checked anyway, just in case.

He also stopped beside the bench, but only for a moment before storming back onto the prime path. The hybrid was exhausted from walking around the SMP, bouncing from place to place, watching everyone do their own thing like nothing was happening. Honestly, it was annoying knowing that something bad had happened and no one caring. No one except, of course, Tubbo.

He was with Puffy. By the time Ranboo returned, they had baked most the potatoes from the farm. It was something to keep him busy, keep him away from the other buildings in the miniature nation. The sheep hybrid gave Ranboo a bright grin and handed him a steaming potato.

“What have you been up to?”

“Uh...Looking.” He grabbed one of the spare chairs and sat down, feeling all his muscles relax the second he bit into the soft vegetable.

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, a flash of remembrance crossing her wide eyes.

“Oh. Right. How’s everyone else doing?”

“Fine. Perfectly fine.” He rolled his discolored eyes and took another bite, ears flicking at the sound of Tubbo pacing the kitchen.

“How is he?”

“Better.” She turned back, curls of pastel colors flowing over her shoulder. “I think he’ll be okay. If anything happens while I’m away... tell me as soon as possible.”

“Sure. Of course.” 

The rest of the day went by quicker. They finished with the baking, Puffy left, and Ranboo helped store all the food. The teen was being quiet, forgetting things quicker than Ranboo did, hesitating with each move. The enderman didn’t like how careful his friend was being, but waited until they were back in the main room of the house to address it.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He stated flatly, sitting back on the bed and hugging the blanket to his chest. Even so, his eyes were red, and his hair was a mess, and some of his fingers were wrapped up from accidentally burning himself. Ranboo sat down beside him and leaned against the wall.

“Anything... you wanna talk about?”

Tubbo stared ahead, brow lowering into a stern glare.

“I did the math. It only takes a few days to set everything up. Doesn’t just need to be Nukes, either. There’s more than one way to make a bomb.”

Ranboo’s heart stopped beating for a second, head snapping to the side to stare at the teen. Tubbo continued:

“I don’t want to. But I... I just want him back. I want the old Tommy back. Is that really too much to ask for?” He met Ranboo’s gaze, a few tears falling down his reddened face. The enderman glanced away, tail tossing nervously at his side. He didn’t respond.

Tubbo groaned and wiped his face. “I wish it were me. I wish I died when we faced Dream, then he... then none of this would’ve happened. He’d still be... here. And he’d run around. And be free. He’d... be okay.”

“And you’d be dead. He’d never recover from that, you—“

“But he would.” Tubbo spat, sitting up abruptly and glaring at the hybrid. “I know he would. He’s the determined one, the one that never gives up even... even when it’s all gone to hell. He’d seek revenge and get it. I’m trying to be like him, you know...”

“Tubbo. Blowing up the whole SMP isn’t going to help. He wouldn’t do that! That’s—that’s not revenge...”

“Sure it is. These fucks put me though hell, every last one of them.” He clenched his fists around the blanket, a dark flicker in his gaze. “It’s about time they own up to their mistakes.”


	6. Getting better...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im lowkey speed running this LMAOOO  
> Anyway, sit back and relax, this is gonna last a lot longer than I expected.

Day five.

_ Entry 3, XXX. _

_There was a meeting in the castle. Everyone was there—everyone except for Tommy. There was... a lot of fighting. Nothing physical, of course, as Eret requested, but..._

_ Tubbo repeated, oh, what was it: _

_ “If he dies, then I’m going to press the button.” _

_ And after a pause, Dream laughed. _

_ “Press it then.” _

The silence that followed could cut glass. Shatter a Diamond. Snap a netherite ingot in half. Turn Obsidian to gravel.

The entire server stared at either a cocky Dream, who had his hands on his hips, mask tilted down to stare blankly at the other. He didn’t wear armor. He didn’t need it. No one dared lay a finger on him while in front of old and new allies. Sam stood protectively at his side, trident and sword in hand, taking a step forward if anyone threatened the masked man.

Or, they stared at a nicely dressed Tubbo, who hand his hands clenched, lips curled back in a wicked snarl. Ranboo stood behind him, glancing from the teen to Technoblade—who stood next to him with Phil, Wilbur and a very disinterested Schlatt. The piglin returned his glance with a blank look. Ranboo’s heart fell past bedrock at the bored looks on their faces. 

_ They don’t believe him. _

He was too busy gawking at Techno to hear what else Dream said—or maybe he was drowning out his voice subconsciously, who knows—and the other hybrid sighed.

  
_Techno grabbed my arm and whispered something like; “Use those enderman powers. Teleport us out.”_

_ I couldn’t. I mean, I could, but I didn’t. Because the room erupted into a huge argument about children with nukes and mind-controlling eggs and... well, everything else. The meeting ended with Sam promising that Tommy will be found in twenty four hours, alive, and placed right there in the castle. _

He watched Tubbo slam open the door to the holding room. The hybrid quickly followed him in, sputtering objections to entering such a place. The ex-president just chuckled half heartedly, holding up a torch. 

“It’s okay, Ranboo. I’ve been visiting this place when you’re sleeping.”

The enderman blinked, ears flicking up. He shuffled in the doorway.

“Oh.”

Tubbo gave him a friendly smile, albeit his eyes were still reddened. He gestured around the empty stone room, his shrill voice bouncing off the walls. 

“Look, the Nukes are gone.”

Ranboo stepped forward and looked at the empty stone tables, and the holding scaffolding that kept the Nukes upright. Sure enough, they were empty—the tables holding just a few scuff marks from moving things around. The walls had the same old warning signs, the yellow reflecting the dim light of the moon outside. Ranboo felt a weight escape him, his shoulders falling and a smile creeping onto his half-white half-black face.

“Wow... but—no, no. This is great. You... listened.”

Tubbo turned away and grinned. “I did, big man. What’s the use of using violence, anyway? Tommy’ll be at the castle tomorrow anyway. It’s no use keeping those things around.” 

“I’m proud of you.” He took a few steps backwards to the door, gaze falling on the human. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

He almost completed a to do list. It felt good, knowing that even if only for a few days, he was there for someone. And Tubbo listened! He took his words into consideration and did something other than, you know, blow up a server. Ranboo stepped back outside and strolled through the snow to the house, glancing back to see Tubbo follow him with a familiar glint of hope in his eye.

Even so...

_ I think some of them want to put Tubbo in the prison, just in case. I heard Punzjoke about it, and Phil actually considered it. But we left before they could come to a genuine decision.  _

Day six.

_ Entry 4, XXX. _

_ Sam never showed up. Which sucks because, apparently, a vast majority of the SMP actually do want to keep Tubbo in the prison until he cooled down... not that it’s needed anymore, right? He’s fine now.  _

_ But... I mean, who’s gonna run the prison?  _

_ Dream’s acting a little sus too. He’s just smiling and making witty remarks. Actually, I think everyone wants to kill him, but we’re not going to. _

_ That’s Tommy’s job. _

Technoblade and Phil followed us home from the meeting. Tubbo lost his joy the second they stepped into the castle, his feet dragging on the wood of the prime path. His hands were in his trouser’s pockets, eyes on the ground in front of him. He didn’t seem sad, or pissed. Just thoughtful, and Ranboo didn’t know how to handle the emotionless look on his face. So he turned to the two adults instead.

“How’s the cabin?”

“Good.” 

“Your pets are a pain in the ass.” Phil huffed, arms crossed. He was grinning though. 

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’ve been too busy to get them.”

“S’okay. It’s nice listening to the birds fake-hiss.” Techno rolled his eyes.

Ranboo snickered. “Oh, it’s just the worst.” 

“Do you mind if we spend the night? I think Wil’s gonna join us later anyway...”

Ranboo glanced from an unresponsive Tubbo to the winged man. He grinned shyly and shrugged.

“Sure. What’s it like, having him back...?”

“A nightmare.” He admitted with a sigh.

“I can’t believe that man led a country. I can’t believe both of them ran a country.” Techno grumbled.

“Barely.”

“Hey!” 

They paused and stared behind them, watching the two race forward and slide to a stop, pushing each other and catching their breath. Wilbur rose up and cleared his throat first.

“Talkin’ shit, are you?”

Tubbo huffed and led the way onwards, not uttering a word.

“Why would we do that?” Techno grinned mockingly. 

“I thought you two were gonna get wasted before coming over.” 

“Change of plans.” Schlatt sent his friend a nasty glare, “I think he wants to pick a fight with the kid.”

“I do not. Can I not hang out with friends without getting into a fight?”

“No.” 

“Please don’t fight...” Ranboo muttered, though wasn’t heard by any of them.

“I’d rather do it inside, anyway. Don’t want to make a scene.”

“So you _do_ want to fight the kid.”

“About what?” Phil scoffed.

“Ah Ah, I’ll tell you once we’re inside.” Wilbur grinned evilly and stuffed his hands in his trench coat pockets.

Ranboo turned his attention to Tubbo, who stepped onto the stone path that led to SnowChester, a looming building hugging the horizon where a vast ocean once was. Ranboo set his jaw and ignored the shiver that ran down his spine.

“Are you okay?” 

Tubbo almost tripped, startled by the question directed at him. He looked up and barely met Ranboo’s gaze, offering a small smile.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

The group behind them snickered about something quietly. Tubbo tilted his head to send them a glare, then returned to staring at the ground. They stepped onto the snow and into the miniature nation, the sun still high in the sky. The ocean rammed into the wall surrounding the bay, creating a rhythmic white noise that was calming to the enderman. He let the others enter the house first, watching Tubbo hesitate.

“I.... can I have a minute, please?”

“Oh, sure.” The hybrid grinned and closed the door behind him. 

There was a soft breeze that shook the trees, letting them rattle and add more ambience to the world. The biome was full of life, chirps and squeaks cascading through the trees around the country. But other than that, it was calm. And peaceful.

It felt like a lie. He wanted it to have the bustle of L’manburg, the constant movement and chaos that it provided, to be full of people laughing and clinking glasses together. 

But he preferred the dead silence to the lying peace the world offered him. The door to the dark room shut behind him. The ex-president took a few steps forward, holding his arms to his chest and looking up at the disassembled cages and vivid warning signs. 

For an eternity, he’s been the pawn. In the front lines, on the wrong side of a rocket launcher, following his citizens orders, between his best friend and an axe... he never really cared about it. He was free and alive. 

_So why didn’t it feel like it?_

The room’s sides pressed against him, the ceiling lowering and condensing the air until it was hard to breathe. He choked back a sob and felt himself fall to his knees.

In that small, dark room, he came to the realization that he hated being the pawn. He was worth more than that. The only one that knew that was Tommy. The _old_ Tommy. The same person he exiled, and yet was willing to die for. The same person that he bombed, and had rot away in his living room, and kidnapped and killed. Everything that happened to his best friend was his fault. _His_ fault. It was his fault he died.

It’s his fault. His— _my fault_.  It’s always been my fault. And he’s dead. He’s dead because of me, I _killed_ him. He’s never—he died, and I killed him. It’s my fault he died.”

He curled into himself and repeated those words, over and over again, until his voice grew hoarse and his nails broke skin. When he couldn’t, he screamed in agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Consider giving me a follow on my other social media’s! I MAY OR MAY NOT START POSTING ART FROM THIS FANFICTION 👀  
> @Mistic_all_fandoms on Insta  
> @fandomsmistic on Twitter


	7. This probably happened on the 16th, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn’t age well. Welp—

Day seven.

_Entry 5, XXX._

_ I don’t think anyone really believed him. _

_ So when the ground shook, we all assumed it was an earthquake or... something. _

_ Then someone ran out screaming. I don’t remember who. _

_And by the time everyone woke up and looked outside, the second bomb dropped_.

_ A lot of people lost lives, though no one died for good. Not even the ex-ghosts.  _

_ Which is good. Right? _

_ No one died. _

There was a lot of smoke. It settled over the world like a blanket, muting the early morning sun and making it hard to see anything except shadows and whatever was right in front of you. There was no breeze, no clouds, no birds chirping, no foxes scurrying around. The farm animals and pets anywhere near the blasts were dead. 

The world was grey and dark and smelled like ash. It was unnaturally hot, probably from whatever remained of the fires that tore through the SMP. Most buildings were safe, having been stamped out and evacuated. There was no saving where the bombs dropped. There were so many—some huge and others relatively smaller, still smoking and hot.

The hybrid shivered nonetheless, sitting on the bed in the main room with a passed out Fundy laying beside him. Wilbur had grabbed the Fox from the ruins of the hotel—which was very much on fire from a direct hit. A few other SMP members loitered around the house, all sharing the same blank, dazed look, most saved from fires or incoming missiles. The loud explosions echoed through the enderman’s mind, a flash of the orange cloud rising from the earth appearing every time he closed his eyes. 

Philza strolled in from the kitchen and offered everyone tea, a few shakily grabbing the warm cup. He gave Ranboo a small smile as he grabbed one and took a sip, the warm, sweet liquid drowning out the smoke that had coated his throat. 

No words were exchanged. Which was expected, Ranboo thought while looking into the steaming cup.  


No one believed him, or if they did, they thought they’d have more time. Ranboo wondered what he could’ve done different...

At least no one died for _good_. He couldn’t remember who lost lives, but he knew someone did. His grip on the cup tightened with another sip, tail lashing against his leg.

Jack Manifold cleared his throat, an arm bandaged and pant leg burned off. He didn’t look up from his hands.

“Where is he?”

Fundy’s ears flicked abruptly, startling Ranboo. The Fox was awake, staring at Jack blankly before turning his beady black eyes to the enderman. A few others looked over at him too, including the four adults that were keeping themselves busy in the kitchen.

“How—“ Ranboo coughed, his throat unexpectedly coarse. It hurt. “How should I know?”

“You were friends, right?” Jack huffed. “His minutes man. Always by his side.”

“He didn’t come in yesterday.” Wilbur stated flatly. Yesterday felt like a lifetime ago. The day had barely started and everyone in the building was ready to sleep.

“No... He didn’t.” Ranboo sighed, messing with his claws. “I don’t know where he is.”

“You think there’ll be a meeting?” Technoblade mused, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He wasn’t wearing his cloak, or any of his weapons, which was weird, even to Ranboo. 

“Doubt it.” 

“Is it safe enough for us to go out and get things?” Wilbur asked.

The ram hybrid eyed him. “What things?” 

“I don’t know, man. Blankets, food, water, potions.”

“No.” Jack sighed into his good arm. “It’s too smoky. And you’ll risk getting Radiation sickness.”

Ranboo forgot that was a thing. He set his jaw and chipped off the end of his claw, then flicked the piece away and continued to tear them apart mindlessly. His throat was unbearably dry, so all the words he wanted to say were left unsaid.

Day Fourteen.

_ Entry 6, XXX. _

_ It’s been a week, maybe? I’ve been sick and told to stay in bed and rest it off... but I know it’s not a cold.  _

_ Colds don’t make you cough up blood. And I’m pretty sure everyone getting the same exact cold, with the same symptoms and everything—it’s not a cold. _

_ I’ve been poisoned.  _

_ Entry 6.5, XXX. _

_ Oh, yeah. There was a meeting today. About... everything. Sam, Tommy and Tubbo didn’t show up.  _ _ JackManifold called the sickness “Radiation poisoning”. He also told everyone that the food’s radiated. That the water’s poisoned too. _

The sun was still blocked out, embers drifting down from the sky like falling stars. There was a grey haze across the world from the smoke. The animals still haven’t returned, the spawners deactivated, a few fires still ragging across the forests. Everyone looked like ghosts, tired and coughing—with barely enough energy to held onto their weapons or have armor on. The little SnowChester group—Phil, Wilbur, Schlatt, Techno and Ranboo—had the least amount of damage, safe for the occasional burn and bruise from saving people that had since healed. But even with little to no wounds, Techno forced down some coughs. 

Of course the news of “Hey, we’re all sick!” wasn’t pleasant. So everyone hesitated, and thought about what that meant—a few even mumbling out their objections. 

Then Dream coughed and grinned. His mask was ajar, his teeth stained with his own blood.

“This is the end.”

A good chunk of the server had migrated to ShowChester after the meeting, seeing as it was the least affected and still relatively cool there. The house was full of blankets and people, soft murmurs coming from little groups. Ranboo helped Philza with the distribution of potatoes, which were hopefully not as poisoned as Jack insisted they were. The winged man had to take a break halfway through and ended up throwing up in the sink.

Ranboo frowned and grabbed the man a glass of water. Phil glared at it from the corner of his eye before hesitantly grabbing it. Not that it would help.

“Thanks.”

The enderman shrugged and grabbed the tray of soft potatoes, continuing his way through the clumps of people on the floor and in chairs. Wilbur, Techno and Schlatt took over the bed, the ram making a few slightly offensive jokes to try and lighten the mood. It didn’t exactly work, but it was an appreciated effort.

On his way back to the kitchen, the front door opened. The heavy air suddenly sharpened, the world coming to a pause. People peered over to see who was there, the same startled looks on their faces. Ranboo’s ears fell to the sides of his head, mouth parted to try and find the words.

Tubbo’s face paled more than it already was. He looked smaller than before, either from the grey background or how loosely his clothes clung to him. He had dark circles under his eyes, which were dulled. In the span of a second, his face contorted, and he slammed the door closed.

Several people sprang to their feet, summoning swords and axes—a flicker of rage in some of their eyes. Luckily, Ranboo discarded the tray of potatoes and sprang forward first, blocking the door so no one could leave.

“Get out of the way.” Quackity snarled, adjusting his grip on his red-stained axe.

The enderman shook his head ‘no’. It hurt too much to talk.

“He’s the traitor to end all traitors, Ranboo.” Fundy spat, ears pinned and lips curled back in a snarl. “Move.”

“He should be held accountable.” Wilbur stepped forward, a dark glint in his eyes that was shared with the others in the room.

Ranboo stood still, pressed against the door. The tension in the air settled in like the fog outside. He opened his mouth to respond, claws unintentionally flexing in self defense. Before he could try, the door opened behind him again, making him stumble backwards and wheel around.

Tubbo let go of the door and grabbed his arm instead, staring at the floor and shuffling from foot to foot. His cheeks were still wet from tears, hands shaking a little. Ranboo stepped back into the house and stared at him, as did everyone else that tested the weight of their weapons and glared at him.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you.” Schlatt snarled from beside Philza. There wasn’t a response from the teen.

Quackity scoffed. “Don’t have anything to say for yourself?” 

Tubbo kicked at the floor, the door naturally swinging closed. It clicked shut, and he flinched at the small sound, hair hanging over parts of his face. They waited with growing impatience as he stood there, silent. 

“Nothing? _Nothing_!” Philza’s wings flared, knocking something over. Jack hesitated before picking the broken flowerpot up and resting the pieces back on the barrel.

Puffy coughed, then composed herself enough to utter a: “You ruined the server.”

“You should be dead. Or killed for what you’ve done.” 

Tubbo made a noise, a hiccuping sound. His shoulders shuttered, his shaking grip tightening until his fingers could barely hold anymore of his green button-up shirt. From Ranboo’s point of view, he was unable to see his face, so he took a step forward to draw the attention to him. The ex-president immediately collapsed into the hybrid, clutching onto his suit and choking out pitiful sobs. He blinked, unsure as to what to do, and glanced around to see what everyone else thought of the situation. 

None of them had lowered their weapons, but none of them moved to attack. Ranboo set his jaw and pet his back soothingly, feeling him shudder under his hand. He cautiously guided him to the wall away from the door and sat down with him, letting him cry on him despite the slight stings his tears left on his skin.

The house—SnowChester itself—was silent. There were some sharp metallic sounds from swords being sheathed and axes put away, then some shuffling of footsteps as most of the adults backed off and returned to their spots. And there was Tubbo’s crying, which really didn’t help the awkward, hopeless feeling that hung in the air. Ranboo ran his hands through his friend’s hair, tenderly untying knots and rubbing his claws against his scalp to try and sooth him. It didn’t really work, but it was better than doing nothing. Or talking. Ranboo really didn’t want to talk—from both the glares his friend received and the burning dryness in his throat. He wondered if they had sore throats too, or if it was just him getting sick instead of radiation poisoning. Or both. His tail curled around his friend. He didn’t like that thought.

Whatever was left of the day had passed, and not a word was spoken. No small talk, no thank you’s for Phil when he offered tea, nothing. Just coughing and Tubbo’s dry sobs.

It was unbearable. Ranboo knew everyone felt the same way, as a few of them had tried to talk, but closed their mouths before getting a word out. Tubbo was still, either deep in thought or asleep—Ranboo couldn’t tell, with his face buried in his ash and charcoal-stained suit. The hybrid continued to pet him, keeping himself busy from whatever was going to be said next.

But no one said anything. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this REALLY aged poorly holy shit. Anyway I may or may not update this again? Got a new boost of inspiration thanks to recent DSMP events and am working on a less angsty, better written traveling Philza AU (and some one shots if I’m up to it, Idk)  
> Have a good day!

Day seventeen.

_Entry 8, XXX._

_I can’t forget this. If I survive, I can’t forget this._

_Tubbo locked himself in Tommy’s house—or whats left of it. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I hope... I hope he’s okay. He’s a good person. I think._

_I’m trying to gather all my thoughts. It’s hard, but... I think he didn’t mean to push the button and ruin the server and kill everyone._

_He pressed it to kill Dream and ruin the rest of his life. I think. I don’t know, it’s so confusing. Nothing makes sense anymore. Where’s Tommy? Why isn’t he here for his friend?_  
  


The hybrid paced the small room, head brushing against the top and catching the violet particles that dropped from the cracks. The room was one of the few places left that didn’t smell like smoke—hidden underground where only some air entered through the opening. A hand ran through his hair constantly, getting the odd liquid out of his hair and resting his claws against his scalp. 

Tubbo left the day after arriving. Puffy, Jack and himself left SnowChester to look for him and find supplies. They noticed Tommy’s old house—it was locked. The sheep hybrid knocked, a spark of hope in her dark eyes. If Tommy was alive, they’d... well, Ranboo didn’t know what would happen, but only good things. Anything was better than their current life.

But instead, they heard someone yell from inside the dirt mound. It was Tubbo. He watched the light fade from the adult’s eyes, their smiles dropping. The two tried to coax Tubbo out, and that’s when Ranboo left t o his panic room. The writing on the walls were still intact. A few more cracks appeared in the obsidian, dripping the odd violet liquid that didn’t burn Ranboo.

If Tommy wasn’t dead before, he certainly was now. Either by the bombs or the poisoning—starvation, dehydration, exhaustion—it didn’t matter how. He was dead no matter what. The kid couldn’t even walk, so whatever happened... there was no saving himself. Maybe that’s why Tubbo locked himself away.

There was one place Ranboo didn’t look for him.  The prison . It was untouched, much like SnowChester—the nearest bomb having dropped right behind Skeppy’s mansion house and the Big Innit Hotel. Sam was missing from the rest of the server, probably living luxuriously in the prison without any of the issues everyone else faced. No smoke, clean running water and food, no poison. Ranboo was a little jealous.

But, at the same time, he figured that Sam wouldn’t keep Tommy there for this long. He wasn’t that kind of guy. So Ranboo dismissed that theory.

“You’re right. You shouldn’t trust yourself.”

Ranboo froze, eyes gliding up the wall in front of him. He spun and glanced around the tiny room, hissing through his teeth.

“Where are you.”

“With you.”

“What—what do you mean.... don’t trust myself.”

“You probably forgot... you already visited the prison.”

His claws dug into his hair, messing up the otherwise carefully tended to white and black strands. “No I—“ 

“Yeah, you did. Before the bombs dropped. You went in. Sam gave you a tour. You left. It wasn’t a big deal, so you didn’t write it down.”

“You’re _lying_.” He spat back, pressed against the wall and glaring at the water outside the door. “I’ve had a streak of remembering things. There’s a lot of important things going on, and if I visited the prison, I’d remember.”

The voice tutted, sounding smug as all hell. “Not if you were enderwalking.”

“Get out—get _out_ of my head.”

“Why would I lie to you, Ranboo? You’re all going to die anyway. I’m just trying to start a friendly conversation with you.”

“Dream. You’ve done enough. Leave me alone.”

The voice—Dream?—laughed lightly. “I’m you! This isn’t Dream, this is you talking to yourself, Ranboo. You’re loosing your mind.”

Ranboo felt his legs give out under him, sliding to the ground and curling up his his head in his hands. “N-no- _no_! No I—“

“Ranboo?”

He blinked a few times, watching steam rise from his face. When did he start crying? His name was repeated again, calm and patient, catching the enderman’s attention.

Wilbur was standing in the doorway, water dripping down his face and flattened hair. He wasn’t eating his beanie or his trench coat—both probably stashed in his inventory so they couldn’t get wet. For a moment, Ranboo thought Ghostbur somehow returned—the dripping, the pale, dead look on his face, his dull look in his eyes—but the giveaway was that he wasn’t transparent. Or floating.

Ranboo wiped away the stinging feeling on his face and sniffled, ears pinned to his head.

“S-sorry. What?”

The ex-deadman studied him for a moment, then sighed. “I saw something glowing underwater. Didn’t know I’d find someone.” 

The man studied the writing on the walls and the cracks in the obsidian, a distant look in his eye. Ranboo pushed himself off the floor and straightened his disheveled appearance.

“This is uh... a private place. You should go...”

Wilbur nodded slowly, then met the hybrid’s gaze.

“Follow me.”

“I-okay...”

The two exited the bunker and into the world again—smoke causing them both to struggle to catch their breath. The sun was barely reaching the ground, a dark shadow covering the server.

“Where... where are we going?” Ranboo croaked out, biting back a fit of coughing. Wilbur gave him a small smile and started walking towards the abandoned buildings.

“Back when you were looking for... _him_ , I also looked for him. Not as hard as you. But... still. There was one place that I knew no one else would go. He wasn’t there... but it doesn’t hurt to look again.”

There was an odd beauty to the server. The way the sun peered through the smog, making what you could see stand out and what you couldn’t becoming a looming figure. They stepped past the expanded crater of L’manburg, both pausing to look down.

One of the Nukes had hit right there. The hole was even bigger now, revealing more bedrock and lava sources. There was a new flag planted within the depths—a giant, tattered old L’manburg flag that billowed in the drafts that some caves emitted. It was hard to see from where they stood—It’s outline given away by some lava.

“I used to think that this nation was mine. It belong to me. I made it, wrote the declaration, fought and died for it... but that’s not true.” 

Ranboo glanced over to him. He had his trench coat back on, shivering slightly from the water. He stared down there with a blank face. Like how his brother once did, in the nether.

“It was  _ours_ . _Our_ crowning achievement. _Our_ home. And I....” he sighed again, struggling to find the right words. He chuckled. “I guess, in the end, it was never meant to be.”

“It’s unfair.” Ranboo nodded and glanced back down to the flag, catching sight of the yellow X in the base of the flag.

“Exactly! But, come walk with me,” he tore his gaze away and stormed off towards the once bountiful forests, “but it’s okay. He could live without it, you know? And he did! Then everything fell to shit. And I was surprised that he couldn’t remember anything. He was worse than Ghostbur.”

Ranboo couldn’t help but crack a smile. He remained silent, following him contently.

“I guess the point is that... he deserved more. And he’s gone. No—he’s  dead . And...”

He paused at the hidden little hole, pushing some branches and vines to the side to let some of the world’s grey light in. Not that it made a difference.

“And I didn’t think it would hurt this much.” 

His voice, ruined by the smoke, cracked. His fists clenched against the resisting flora, shoulders rising with a gasping breath.  Ranboo frowned, then glanced past him into the hole. He wanted to give him a hug, but knowing the ex-president, he’d probably loose a life trying

Wilbur pulled himself together and let out a sharp exhale, stepping into the small tunnel and down a spiral of steps. Ranboo followed close behind, eyes adjusting to the darkness. He tripped on something, falling onto Wilbur—who had the brains to brace for it before they could both go tumbling down. The man glared at him, clenching his jaw to avoid saying something he’d regret.

“Careful.” He spat, pointing a gloved finger to the floor. “There’s buttons on the ground.”

“Wh—“ Ranboo let go of him and found his footing. He stepped on the thing he tripped on, and sure enough, there was a  click  sound, and the thing flattened a little.

“Why?”

Wilbur made a noise. Not quite a laugh, or a grunt, just an audible puff of air as he continued down. Soon, wood creaked from under their feet. Wilbur brought out a torch and struck it against the stone walls, the tip flaring up and illuminating the area. 

The spiral had opened up into an incredibly long and narrow ravine. There were stalactites hanging from the ceiling, dripping mineral water rhythmically. Rickety wooden paths were step on about, carved into the sides or strewn across the gap haphazardly. The enderman pressed his toe to the edge and leaned forward, staring down into the depths. Sure enough, the torch revealed an absurd amount of wooden buttons placed across the entire deeper reaches of the ravine.

“Where are we?”

“Pogtopia.” Wilbur whispered, his voice carrying off the walls and shouting back at him. He continued down, taking rather loud breaths. Ranboo copied him, finding that the air was cold and crisp, mouth practically watering at the lack of smoke in it.

“Why would he be here?” Ranboo whispered back, ears flicking around when he heard his voice echo back. There was something fundamentally wrong about this place. A part of him didn’t want to know why Tommy would _want_ to be anywhere _near_ here. 

“It was our old home, during his first exile and before my death. We were kicked out of Manburg by Schlatt’s orders. So we resided here, with The Blade and sometimes Tubbo.”

“And... whats with all the buttons?”

Wilbur hesitated at the bottom, a hand pressed against the cold wall, like he was savoring it. Ranboo, again, copied him, and relished how smooth it was—probably from some ancient water source that had drained out centuries ago. The trench coated man continued onwards, looking in each nook and cranny.

“Wilbur?”

He hummed a response.

“He isn’t down here.” 

Wilbur stopped, straightening up in an instant. He pivoted to the side, glaring over his shoulder at the hybrid, eyes reflecting the light of the fire dangerously. Ranboo hadn’t moved from his spot by the wall, hand still firm against it. Their eyes met, and for once, Ranboo didn’t flinch. The dripping noises flooded the space as Wilbur searched for his words.

“He’s dead. Just like you said.” Ranboo continued, voice dancing off the walls. “Just like you were. Do... do you think he came here after you died to look for you?”

It wasn’t a question to make a point, but a genuine one. Knowing Tommy, he probably did.

“And everything else is gone. It’s... like Dream said. This is the end. No one wants it to be...”

“—But it is.” Wilbur finished, the tension evaporating from his shoulders. “I know. You’re a smart man, Ranboo.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the compliment, tail flicking below him. The other turned back to the ravine and looked up at the paths that were laid across, vividly remembering the bantering that occurred. The jokes, the lighthearted laughs, his adopted brother grinning ear to ear and promising hope no matter what.

“Hope is dead.” He thought aloud, turning back to see Ranboo nod solemnly and agree:

“Hope is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recent DSMP spoiler warning!
> 
> OKAY BUT IF C!TUBBO THREATENS NUKES I’M BLAMING MYSELF FOR ACCIDENTALLY MANIFESTING THIS FUCKING FANFIC TO BE CANON. I apologize in advance...


End file.
